


Minutes

by orphan_account



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Biting, Body Worship, Desk Sex, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, like very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's forty-five minutes and Cagney has had the time of his life.





	Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS TO ALMOND FOR PROOFREADING AND AME FOR THE PROMPT UWU

It’s only ten minutes and Cagney is already aching,  _ aching _ for release.

 

Dick gripped in Spectre’s hand, he’s bent backwards over a sturdy wooden desk, and it’s so good he can’t even  _ moan. _ He’s leaking thin nectar all over Spectre’s grasp on him, breathing fast and shallow as he’s pounded into oblivion, Spectre has  _ never _ fucked him like this before, and it’s  _ so, so good. _ His leaves and legs are shaking, wrapped around the ghost, who’s leaving heated kisses on his stem, it’s a wonder he hasn’t come five times already. The only noise in the room is his desperate exhales, Spectre’s soft moaning, and the harsh smacking of sex.

 

It’s eleven minutes and Cagney’s being fucked so fast and harshly he can barely think, finally able to make guttural noises of pure pleasure, volume control long gone and out the window. His entire body is dizzy and light and he can’t keep his hips still for the life of him, bucking into Spectre’s hand far out of time with each thrust and pump, much too far gone to get any sense of timing. Through the strangled, fervent noise he’s making, he’s miraculously able to get some semblance of a sentence out. “Spec--Spehhehehheee _ eeeeeEEEECc--I--I’m--so close, SO close, oh GOD-- _ ”

 

It’s twelve minutes and Spectre has slowed to a snail’s pace.

 

Cagney lets out a long whine of discontent, attempting to push Spectre into him with his legs, to no avail. “S...Spec… Spec,  _ please _ …”

 

Trailing a few teasing kisses up Cagney's stem, Spectre reaches his face and gives him a long, passionate kiss, smirking when he breaks away and Cagney is  _ completely _ starved for both air and touch, though Spectre is also breathing quite heavily. “I… want to test something. I want to see how far I can push you... I want to see how long I can edge you...” He leaves a little bite on the side of Cagney’s petals, punctuating his sentences with deep, angled thrusts that leave Cagney completely unable to respond with anything but whimpers. “I want to see  _ what a good boy you can be for me. _ So.. be a good boy, will you?”

 

The smug look on Spectre’s face on its own is almost enough to send Cagney straight over the edge, a shiver going up his stem with each use of the phrase  _ good boy _ . He hadn’t told Spectre about how much that turns him on, had he...?

 

Either way, it’s  _ ridiculously _ hot and his only response is a nod and a low moan.

 

“ _ Good. _ ”

 

Spectre’s tentacle-like dick tends to pulsate, and that’s  _ especially _ apparent when he fucks Cagney so  _ tortuously _ slow, a steady rhythm that absolutely drives Cagney  _ wild  _ whenever Spectre is inside him. And when Spectre manages to sync up his teasing movements with the pulse of his cock, Cagney feels like he could come on the spot.

 

It’s fifteen minutes and Cagney is being held on the edge of orgasm, yet denied it by  _ stupid _ Spectre and his  _ amazing _ stamina and his  _ perfect _ dick and the  _ wonderful _ drag and pressure of it against his every sweet spot and  _ god _ were he being fucked like this any faster he would just about die. His moans come out breathier and higher than before, having been brought so  _ tantalizingly _ close to climax already, and he can practically  _ feel _ the smugness radiating off of Spectre at what putty Cagney has turned into in his hands, the wonderful arches of his stem when he pounds him and strokes his floweret; Cagney is  _ his, ONLY his, _ and Cagney  _ loves _ when Spectre expresses it like this, even if it feels like borderline  _ torture _ to be edged this well.

 

“You’re so beautiful.”

 

Cagney is brought out of his trancelike state by Spectre’s ghostly voice and a soft yet good increase in pace, feeling more nectar drip down his length.

 

“So,  _ so _ beautiful. Handsome. Hot. Incredible. Talented.”

 

He leaves a bite on Cagney’s stem with each word, drawing closer and closer to his petals. “You feel wonderful. Everything about you is wonderful. Your desperate noises, your cute faces, your  _ wonderful  _ cock, the way you feel around me, it’s all so,  _ so _ good.”

 

It’s twenty minutes and the praise is almost too much for Cagney to handle, moaning Spectre’s name long and loudly and almost incomprehensibly as the pace is set even faster, Spectre giving his own cute moans as well, muffled in Cagney’s petals. He presses his palm against Cagney’s abdomen, right where he would feel his own dick inside, massaging and making Cagney tighter around him. Cagney is yelping and wailing with each thrust now, the pressure from Spectre's hand outside pressing his cock against his deep spots  _ so _ good, Spectre’s other hand still pumping Cagney's leaking floweret.

 

Cagney is so close again,  _ so close, _ and he can feel Spectre is too, feeling the slight stutters in his rhythm and the hitches in his breathing; it’s a miracle that he can pick out any details in his state of ecstasy, but he’s just taking in  _ all _ of Spectre, figuratively and literally. The way his the grip of both his hands tightens, his voice changes octaves, his tail flicks and wags, it’s all  _ gorgeous _ and  _ perfect _ and  _ what a perfect being is fucking him right now. _

 

It’s twenty-three minutes and Spectre comes to an abrupt halt, hand holding Cagney’s abdomen, moving to more steady himself on the desk as he lets out deep and heavy breaths, earning an  _ immensely _ displeased whimper from the aforementioned. He’d been so close that even with Spectre now barely moving, he’s still tightening around him and breathing quickly, savoring the gasps that the contractions draw from Spectre, nearly crying in neediness and near-orgasm. “ _ Please-- _ fuck, Spectre,  _ please, _ I  _ need _ to come…”

 

Drawing his hips back and sighing with a smile, Spectre leans to give Cagney a deep kiss, and practically  _ inhaling _ the  _ huge  _ moan that it muffles when he slams back into him. He draws back again, slams in again, and he soon has a slow but  _ very _ intense rhythm going, kissing Cagney all the while and taking in the  _ beautiful _ noises he’s making, even letting out his own in response.

 

It’s twenty-four minutes and Spectre only breaks from the kiss when he absolutely  _ needs _ air, panting roughly and thrusting even moreso. He’s not going particularly fast, but  _ all _ his strength is going into each one, and the  _ faces _ Cagney makes with each thrust are  _ priceless _ . The way his head tips back and his mouth hangs open with constant cacophony, his hips rolling to meet each buck of Spectre’s and grinding his dick against his hand, which is now  _ coated _ in nectar, every little leaf facing out to get as much stimulation as it possibly can for him. The mere  _ sight _ of him so tempts Spectre to just fuck him  _ hard _ until they’ve both come as much as they possibly can. But, by edging Cagney like this, it comes with the price of not being allowed to climax himself.

 

Cagney’s grip on his head pulls him out of his thoughts and into more rough, needy kissing, punctuated by carnal moans and gasps for air, Spectre’s own head getting foggy with how much he  _ needs _ Cagney,  _ needs _ to fuck him, to make him come, to come with him.

 

But, he does have some composure left, unlike the other. After a few more thrusts, he just  _ doesn’t _ draw back, leaving his slimy,  _ pulsating _ tentacle  _ deep _ inside Cagney.

 

Cagney groans at this, trying to move his hips to get any friction he can. “Spec--Spectre, I was so close--I  _ need _ you,  _ please!! _ ”

 

Spectre doesn’t reply verbally, taking a few moments to catch his breath before leaning in to kiss Cagney  _ unusually _ softly. He leaves a peck on his cheek, trails more as he gets closer, then just  _ engrosses _ himself in him completely, socket closed in such a  _ sweet, chaste _ gesture. When he finally does pull away, he gives Cagney another quick smooch, and then another one on the tip of his nose, smiling and panting. Cagney is dazed, desperate, but clearly and  _ indescribably _ happy.

 

“Cagney. Cags. You’re  _ wonderful. _ ”

 

His free hand—the one not still carefully wrapped around Cagney’s dick—comes up to cusp Cagney’s cheek, brushing his thumb against Cagney’s blushing, adorable face, and Cagney  _ melts _ into the touch.

 

“You’re so good.  _ So _ good. You’re doing wonderful,  _ my beautiful good boy. _ ”

 

His hand travels left to a petal, trailing feather-light touch along it and  _ loving _ the shudder it draws.

 

“You do so good when I edge you. You don’t come without permission. You’re so  _ good. _ ” Spectre pauses for a moment, then stifles a cocky laugh. “Well, not that I gave you a chance to come.”

 

The reminder of the state he’s in makes Cagney groan, and Spectre chuckles, though he’s in a similar situation.

 

“You’ve done good. I think I can…  _ reward _ you now.” His fingers trail back to Cagney’s neck, just barely brushing against it. “I do wonder… How many times can you come in the time it takes me to come once?”

 

Cagney is blushing straight orange, eyes cloudy but locked on Spectre with fervent intensity, and he can’t even find the words to reply. But Spectre knows.

 

It’s thirty minutes and Spectre uses both hands to hold Cagney’s leaves to the desk, Cagney bites his own lower lip as he feels Spectre adjust his position to get a good angle inside him. And he’s so glad Spectre adjusted, because the first careful thrust is  _ heaven _ .

 

By the fourth or fifth thrust Cagney's entire body is trembling, the gooey tip of Spectre’s dick torturing the same special spot  _ over and over _ , leaving it near impossible for him to even breathe. His leaves twitch against the restraining grip on them, he feels Spectre give his neck a soft but  _ possessive _ bite. A few more movements have his stem arching high to meet Spectre’s body, grinding his  _ aching _ floweret against Spectre and appreciating the muffled groan he hears from behind his petals.

 

When Spectre finally emerges from his bite—that is more than  _ sure _ to leave a mark, by the feel of it—Cagney breaks his leaves free and wraps them secure around Spectre’s back, pulling himself closer, his voice near a whisper. “Spec.  _ Spectre _ . Please,  _ fuck me. _ ”

 

With a giggle, Spectre nuzzles against Cagney’s face affectionately. “As you wish.”

 

It’s thirty-two minutes and Spectre is near immediately back to the harsh and carnal pace that he’d used in the first ten minutes, earning loud, startled moans from his lover as he’s pounded so  _ hard _ , so  _ deep, so good. _ Every slam of Spectre’s cock against his insides sends another shock through him and he cries out with every one, almost instantly overstimulated from how much he’s getting, how  _ good he’s getting fucked _ . He’s made a mess of himself and the desk already, nectar precum having already dripped and been smeared on his lower body, Spectre’s hand now back on Cagney's dick and jacking it off at  _ overwhelming _ speed. His leafy fingers dig into Spectre’s back, he gives a high-pitched keen with  _ every _ movement, it’s all  _ so good, so good. _

 

It’s thirty-three minutes and Spectre is panting and moaning, barely controlling his thrusts into Cagney anymore, Cagney is  _ tight _ and  _ spasming _ around his cock and it’s all so  _ good  _ and it takes all his focus just to not come, to  _ not come. _ Cagney is coming first. Cagney is coming second. Cagney is going to come  _ many _ times before he’ll let himself finish.

 

It’s thirty-four minutes and Cagney suddenly moans louder than  _ anything _ he’d done previously this entire time, bucking his hips up into Spectre’s hand, rear hitting the desk over and over. “Speee _ eeeeeEEC--Spec, I’m coming--!! _ ”

 

This time, however, Spectre doesn’t stop; he squeezes Cagney’s dick lightly while pumping it, thrusting  _ impossibly _ harder into him, after all this time of not allowing him to come,  _ making _ him come, and that’s enough.

 

Cagney  _ screeches _ in pleasure as the full brunt of his orgasm hits him like a truck, coming  _ hard, _ fingers digging into Spectre’s body carelessly and desperately, back arching to new heights and legs kicking, and Spectre fucks him all the way through it. Savors the view of his gold, nectar cum, the slight smell of releasing pollen, the  _ gorgeous _ wails that Cagney continues to give through his whole climax, lasting a good fifteen or so seconds.

 

And he doesn’t stop when Cagney’s done coming.

 

It’s thirty-five minutes and Cagney’s sobbing tears of pleasured overstimulation, constant cries of  _ ‘more’ _ and  _ ‘faster’ _ escaping him as Spectre attempts to milk his next orgasm from him, angling his hips so that his thrusts drag against Cagney’s front wall. The sight of Cagney coming had almost,  _ almost _ been enough to make Spectre lose it, to forget whatever intentions he’d had and  _ let go. _ But it had been so,  _ so _ worth it to wait it out, he decides as Cagney squirms below him.

 

It’s thirty-six minutes and Cagney’s second orgasm isn’t quite as intense as the first, but lasts even  _ longer _ , making him moan Spectre’s name loudly over and over and drag his leafy claws down his back. This one hits him in waves, a new shock of pleasure wracking him every time he thinks it’s over, his nectar releasing in pathetic spurts.

 

It’s thirty-nine minutes as Cagney nears his third, noises reduced to breathy whispers of  _ ‘yes’ _ and the occasional utterance of Spectre’s name. He’s  _ wrecked _ , eyes hazy, legs shaking,  _ certainly _ not in walking or even talking condition, but he wants  _ more _ , just  _ one _ more and he’ll be satisfied, he’s sure.

 

Both Spectre’s hands grasp Cagney’s stem, giving him support, as he exhaustedly and desperately ruts into him more, panting and groaning and gasping at how long he’d let this go on, how  _ long _ he’d deprived himself of release. His arms are shaking and Cagney is moaning again and everything is too much,  _ so much _ .

 

It’s forty minutes and Spectre comes hard, with a long  _ ‘Caaaaaaaagneeeyyyyyy!!’ _ , the bright blue ectoplasm filling Cagney driving him over the edge again as well, nectar coming out at nothing but a stunted trickle as he moans with Spectre. He’s rocking his hips into Cagney fervently, riding out his intense climax with keens and high moans, instinctively stroking Cagney through his own as well.

 

They both come down from their respective highs at about the same time and Cagney all but collapses back on the desk, too spent to even unhook his arms from around Spectre, breathing hard and heavy. “...W..wow.”

 

“...Yeah. Wow,” Spectre laughs, though it comes out as more of a wheeze.

 

It’s forty-one minutes and they’re both draped over an absolutely  _ ruined _ wooden desk, fucked senseless and braindead, after quite possibly the best orgasms of their lives.

 

It’s forty-two minutes and Cagney is in Spectre’s arms. He carries him, bridal style, the former already nodding off as Spectre presses gentle kisses against his forehead.

 

It’s forty-three minutes and Cagney is safe in bed beside Spectre, a dumb smile on his face as he gazes lovingly at him, his goofy, lovable,  _ sex god _ ghost lover.

 

It’s forty-five minutes and they’re asleep, content, in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> not my first smut but my first finished/published ghostblossom smut uwu


End file.
